


Live Oak, with Moss

by Pholo



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3238193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pholo/pseuds/Pholo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something odd about Reim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live Oak, with Moss

Xerxes Break has always been an observant person. He tends to focus on the wrong things, that’s all. And he notices when Reim starts to act _off_. 

Reim has his nervous spells, but he’s of a sturdy caliber, calm and capable when confronted by the most dire circumstances. He's also very upfront about the way he feels. When he's flustered, he goes all-out: Break doesn’t normally see him try and act calm when he’s out of his element. 

There are times, though…

“You really like dresses, don’t you?” Break asks once, at a party. Reim has a wont to stare after the lady's garments.

At the question, Reim frizzles up like a cat. He ducks his head, then looks away. “Dresses?” 

“Over there." Break points them out, and Reim yanks his hand down. “There's no need to get defensive, Reim.”

Reim turns his head; he sets his eyes on the wall and plants his feet. “They’re nice, that’s all,” he says. And that’s all he'll say on the topic.  

 

 

It’s November, and storm clouds gutter the sky like so many miles of driftwood. The melted snow gushes down the tiles of the Rainsworth's roof, and a musty smell clings to the estate like a sickness. Since Oz and company's trip to Lord Barma, Break and Reim have returned to hand-wiggle-meh terms. Break has come to return Reim’s coat--he finds Reim more a bundle of limbs than a person, curled up along his bed like a spent pillbug.

Break hovers for a moment. Then he slumps across the room, drapes Reim’s coat over a chair, and turns. Reim still hasn’t looked up at him, so he addresses the couch: “You all right there, Reim?”

Reim groans at him.

Break has a terrible comfort track record; he doesn't know how to cope with other people's pain. He recognizes that he has a responsibility to Reim as his friend, though, and he clomps over to his bedside against his better judgement.

Break kneels down beside his bed. Reim has braced his head against his knees. He looks tense enough to spring apart.

When he still refuses to look at him, Break sighs.

“What do you need, Reim?” he asks, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Reim doesn’t make to move.

“I’m fine,” Reim says at last.

Break laughs at him. He knows he should probably act nicer than that. “Reim,” he teases, and he reaches out to pat Reim’s hand. “If you were any more 'fine' than this we'd have to bury you."

Reim grumbles at that. “You don't have worry about me, Xerx.”

“Maybe not,” Break agrees. "But I ought to." Reim pulls out of his fetal position, and Break's brow furrows. Reim's eyes are narrowed, his face pale. Break has rarely seen Reim look so vulnerable.

After a time, Reim says, “you could get me a glass of water."

Break waits for a laundry list. Reim doesn’t go on, though, so Break moves to comply.

By the time he gets back, Reim has disappeared.

 

 

Reim loves his desk, but he’ll leave the estates when ordered. He’s assigned a spot on a mission to keep the company records straight. Break accompanies him, hoping to scrape up some dirt on sigils and sacraments. 

Pandora's booked them a spot on the edge of Reveil, where the water's warm and the beds are clean. They have to share rooms. Break and Reim are paired because Reim, unlike the rest of Pandora's agents, can stomach Break's antics. Their roommates are a pair of sub-par officers with a pack of weather-beaten cigarettes (and maybe half a frontal lobe) between them. They yack for hours over a pack of cards, but appear civil enough of fibre. Reim sits down to read: Break plots his escape.

And then one of their company uses the phrase "unarians," and Break's ears perk up. “I don't give a shit,” the officer says, from across the hotel room. He flips an ace down against the table, and his friend gripes at him. “I mean--I've tried. I really have. To give a shit. To be patient and courteous and--polite." He frowns; bites down against his cigarette. "But if I have to turn down one more of these people--you know.”

“I dunno,” the other says. He stares at his own cards and tries very hard not to smirk. “Even they’ve gotta’ have low standards to go after you, Avery.”   

“Shut up.”

The other officer rolls back his shoulders. He sets his own card on the table. “No, I get where you’re at.”

“Sure."

The other officer kicks him under the table. Where he’s seated on a side chair, Reim sets his papers aside. He peels his folders off the armrests.

“I’m going out,” he says.

The officers look up. “What?" One says. "Now?”

“I'll be back soon” Reim says. He starts for the door.

Break watches as Reim leaves, and wonders whether or not he should follow him. There’s that look on Reim’s face again, like his teeth are clamped down hard enough to split the bone.

Break decides to stay put. He’ll catch Reim later, when he doesn’t look like he’s swallowed a horse.

 

 

There's not a lot for Break to do but scrounge around for an early holiday: Once he goes blind, he knows he won't make it to Reim's birthday. That's the logic that brings Break to Reim's quarters on the third of March.

“‘Morning, Reim,” Break says, as he crosses the threshold. “happy Peach Blossom Day.”

“What?”

“Happy Peach Blossom Day." With his gift tucked under his shoulder, Break pops onto the top of Reim’s desk. “It’s a holiday.”

“Says who?”

“Japan.”

"And by 'Japan' you mean 'you.'" Reim scoots his papers out of the way so Break won’t crush them. “Get off my desk, Xerx. And what have you got under your arm?”

“A gift.”

Reim narrows his eyes at him. “A gift.”

“Yes. Have you gone deaf?”

“Hang around you long enough and I’ll go worse than that.”

“Very funny.” Break pushes his present towards Reim’s chair. “Now open your present before I decide you aren’t worth the trouble.”

Reim huffs at him, but he doesn’t argue further. Break hears a rip of paper, then a soft pop as Reim removes the lid of the box.

Break waits.

Reim peels his present from its tissue wrapping. “How did you--?”

“Carefully,” Break says. “Don’t worry.”

“Xerx.”

“It was necessary.”

Reim pulls the dress fully out of the box. He unfolds the material. “It’s beautiful.”

“And hopefully black,” Break says.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Reim doesn’t speak for a while after that. Break tries not to feel too out of place. He supposes that he can still pass this off as a gag gift, but he doesn’t want to. “Reim,” he says at last. “Are you all right?”

“Thank you,” Reim says.

Break starts, then grins a bit. “Oh, dear,” he teases. “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“My my, you are!”

“I’m not.”

Break only claps him on the shoulder. He leans back on his desk. “Happy early birthday, Reim.”

 

 

Break, tussled up against the bed sheets, feels the room go soft. Oz has closed the door behind him, and he and Reim are alone. They probably have a good couple minutes or so before they have to head back to Sablier with Lady Sheryl.

Break’s legs hurt.

“You ready to go then, Reim?” Break asks from the bed. He doesn’t bother to turn to face Reim--he knows he won’t be able to see him.

Reim hums. He’s leant up against a side wall. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good to hear.”

They don’t move.

Reim thinks for a moment. Then, he gathers himself: “Xerx,” he says. “Could I, um.”

“Yes?”

“Never mind.”

“No, no,” Break says. “Do go on, Reim.”

He feels Reim look away. “You’ll laugh.”

“Probably.”

Reim takes that as a go-ahead. Break can almost see him roll back his shoulders:

“I like men.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t--” Reim pauses, then proceeds with caution: “I’m male, most of the time, also. But there are days when I’m female.” He coughs. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Break pulls himself around on the bed. “Reim.”

“Yes?”

“Come here.”

Reim stares at him. He seems to consider the offer, then pads over to the bed like too much noise will scare Break away. Break feels the bed dip, and he reaches out to pull Reim down beside him. He slings an arm over Reim’s shoulder, and tugs him close.

Reim tenses up, but when Break doesn’t make to move away, he relents. More than that, he buries his face against Break’s chest--he brings his hands up between their chests, and Break cups his palms about Reim's. Break scoots closer, and rests his chin atop Reim’s head.

“I’m glad you told me,” he says.

Reim doesn’t respond. He squeezes Break’s hands.

Break smiles.

“Which pronouns do you prefer?”

“‘They’ works,” Reim says. “They, them, the lot.”

“All right.”

“You’d better not die on me today,” Reim tells him. He--no, Break amends, they--rests their head further back against the bed. “You’re not allowed.”

“Understood,” says Break. He kisses Reim on the cheek--perhaps because he knows he won't be able to for much longer--and they lay like that until Sharon comes to collect them. 

 

 

What think you I have taken my pen to   
          record?   
Not the battle-ship, perfect-model'd,   
          majestic, that I saw to day arrive in the  
          offing, under full sail,   
Nor the splendors of the past day--nor the  
          splendors of the night that envelopes   
          me—Nor the glory and growth of the  
          great city spread around me,   
But the two men I saw to-day on the  
          pier, parting the parting of dear   
          friends.   
The one to remain hung on the  
          other's neck and passionately kissed   
          him—while the one to   
          depart tightly prest the one to remain in his arms...

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh heyyyy why are all my things angsty by the end? Oh, well. The poem "Live Oak, with Moss" was written by Walt Whitman.


End file.
